Short Stories

Coughing, Sighing

    Coughing, sighing, and waiting; that's all it took. Coughing, sitting down on the steps of this awry building, waiting and heaving, smoke in the lungs. The sun had long since gone to rest in the cloudless sky, but smog and lights from the upper floors drowned out all hopes of seeing the stars. Sitting by the steps, a cat glared up at me, quiet. Its widened, darkly colored eyes distanced itself from me. However, before I could get one good look at the animal, it scuttled down the alley, disappearing from view, a curled white tail flicking in the dark. I watched it pass, straightened myself out, and turned away, heading up the rickety steps.
    Coughing, sighing, and waiting; that's all there was. The building waited, creaking, smoke in the lungs. I step through the foyer, and each rhythmic tap-tap-tap of my shoes echoed throughout the hall. The building waited, silent. Windows, long since broken, pass my gaze, so I instead focus on the bright overhead lights, streaming beams of energy from above. Eyes glaze, but the lights up above softly illuminated the tiled floors. It was a small comfort, indeed. I was finding myself wondering where that cat had run off to.
    Signs of decay, of something long since gone, littered the wall, littered the room which I had entered only moments before. I coughed, sighed, and waited for the creature of the room's appeal to pass. Where had that cat run off to? Ah, perhaps it was elsewhere, hopefully in some place of a greater fortune than the disrepair this building, this structure, had disheveled to. I flicked the light switch. Electricity. A miracle it still functioned in this place, no?
    Delayed, I believe, was my journey; but the state of my being bothered me none. However, I expressed no remorse towards my endeavor. As I made my way through, the comfort of knowing the electricity ran—that the systems of luxury operated still within the building—filled me with a certain determination. Comfort, yes. Although I lack a flashlight, reflective surfaces and eyes glinted what remained of the light as I pass, before soon fading back into obscurity. I paid no attention to them. A hallway full of doors occupied my vision, and I hit another light switch. After a moment of hesitation, the lights flicked on. The electricity didn't seem to function correctly everywhere. What a shame, I suppose.
    I peered through one of the doors, ajar from its hinges. A strange feeling washed over me. A strange feeling, a premonition; a strange feeling of a million eyes staring down, as if the roof had fallen inward to reveal the eyes of gods looking down from far above. I closed the door, clicking it back into its correct placement. Sweat ran down my forehead, beaded through my hair. I closed the door. There was no guilt to be found in my countenance. Light crept down harshly, stinging, a slowed comfort. Where had that cat run off to?
    Ah, where was I going with this, again? The lights winked, and the walls waited. The stench of something rotten and crude poured out like a stream from one door, cracked open oh so slightly; I readjust it. No such thing bothered me here, for I left behind my previous thoughts and occupations for this solemn goal. Thick and dense air coiled around the room. I coughed once more, waving away the small flies that had taken interest in the fleeting light. Just another step, and one, and two, and two...
    Electricity shot down the hallway, ricocheting through the lights and causing the cooling systems to flare to life. A small comfort, I supposed. I knew I was not alone here; the flies had since abandoned me, as turning corners and meeting eyes tends to ward them off. Perhaps the cat had snuck inside as well. Within the corridor, various holes and broken-off chunks of brick and mucus caused the tiniest pitter-patter of rain water to drift down from above. Had it begun to rain already? No, perhaps the water swirled around from upstairs, creaking as it fell. I bent over to investigate the holes. My eyes twitched; there was no more water dripping down. Perhaps the disrepair of the complex appealed to mice and insects, for the pitter-patter would not stop. My eyes twitched.
    And at last. At last. At last. My memory serves me well. At last.
    With a crooked smile, a crooked hand, I gripped the last doorknob tight, swinging it open with a clatter, a roar of thunder, breaking this silence wrapped like a coffin around me. Coughing, sighing, and waiting; that's all it did. That's all I did. And as if the roof had burst open, alive with millions of eyes of millions of things, the lights above screeched to a halt, to stop, as if they were to be burned and destroyed. With a crooked smile, a crooked hand, I breathed in, coughed, sighed, waiting and heaving, smoke and fire on the tongue. Reflective surfaces, millions of eyes, looked back on me emptily. And at last.